A Blade in the Dark
by ArisuAmiChan
Summary: Handy man by trade, a young man is whisked away into a world of lies and deceit, unable to return home until he learns the truth of his employers. To blend with the culture laid out before him like a feast, he must learn how to wield more than just a hammer and nail in order to survive. Rated T for language, no pairings, would really appreciate Spanish/Italian speaking betas!


He tugged at the collar of the uncomfortable Abstergo uniform, grunting softly as he stepped over his own feet on the way.

The company may have been weird, but even a janitor was payed pretty well, he had to admit.

Although, he was the worst janitor, forgetting what floor he had to be on that day in order to clean. So instead, he picked a random floor (Six, since it was his lucky number.) and went to work.

Although with the way the sixth floor was lit, he really, _really_ regretted going for his lucky number.

Again, he tugged at his uniform collar, the fabric rough. He _hated_ uniforms. He had seen enough of them at those stupid private schools he went to as a kid.

Blue eyes darted everywhere they could, looking for anything out of place or dirty.

A swipe of the duster here, a scrub of the mop in the corner, a quick glance around the area told him he hand to bend and picked up trash, a door swishing open near by.

"Yes, I _know_ we are running out of time! But Subject Eighteen isn't doing as well as Seventeen! Seventeen was one of the best we had until that little _tart_ took him away! I _understand_ we are on a deadline, but we _need _more time for this!" The stranger was angry, it seemed, frustrated. She needed more time with a Subject Eighteen, whatever that was suppose to mean…

And why did Subject Seventeen sound so familiar to him? It was something he knew, but couldn't recall…

That door, based on the sounds, never closed, however. And that piqued his interest. Perhaps it needing a hard fix? He was good with his hands and tools, at least, that part of the reason why he was hired.

He stood from that corner, having been hidden by the cleaning cart and frowned at the open door. Something was almost… _Calling_ to him in that room. His eyes narrowed and he marched over to the door, peeking inside slowly, carefully.

There was nothing but a pedestal and a weird looking pocket watch that was open.

He pulled his head out again and checked the lock. It was a fancy one. It required a fingerprint scan to get in and out, and a limited access card that maybe three, four people held. The door, though, was open still, probably jammed in place after the person on the phone left.

A pocket watch was under lock and key? What the hell were these guys doing with this kinda stuff?

He slowly walked in, inching towards the pedestal and looked with only his eyes, not his hands.

It was a lovely pocket watch, he would admit, the steel glinting in the light and polished to the point of showing his reflection. It was a hunter-case watch with a stem-wind and perhaps stem-movements on the inside to make the clock tick.

Maybe he could get a closer look…? Just for a few moments… It couldn't hurt, right?

His fingers brushed across the glass window to the actual clock, a... Surge of sorts running through him. His fingers jolted away and he held his hand to his chest, as if he was shocked.

"What the hell…?" He whispered, staring at the shiny, cold steel watch. Temptation, such as when Eve bit into the apple provided to her by the snake in the Garden, ran through him.

He scooped it up and pressed the stem down, starting the clock and watching the minute hand tick along slowly, almost lazily.

"It's just a pocket watch…" He grunted softly, reaching out to set in down again, only to find the pedestal missing.

Blue eyes went wide and he bumped into something solid and warm as he moved back, the six foot one inch young man spinning around to find a blade at his neck and an angry gaze on his face. The angry gaze was shadowed by a white beaked hood, implanting fear into the young man.

Run. Run away, screamed his body, fear rooting him to the spot as the male spoke.

_"Chi sei? Perché sei qui? Come sei arrivato qui?" _He understood nothing of what the man was telling him, the stranger backing _him _up now.

"I-I'm sorry! I don't understand!" The pocket watch was warm in his hand now, frozen on the past time and date, not ready to move just yet until the man holding it learned the truth about the company whose uniform he was clad in. About the past settled before him.

_"Chi sei?!" _Was repeated and the young man nearly ran from the angry voice.

"Sorry!" He apologized again, mind reeling. He tried to back away but couldn't, that stranger in white pinning him to a wall now to prevent his escape.

_"Come sei arrivato qui?"_

He was so confused! He knew nothing of the tongue this man was speaking and it seemed they were lost in translation! Mind panicked and flustered, he spoke Spanish instead of English.

_"¿Dónde estoy?"_

The stranger's eyes blinked a few times at his change in language. He knew the tongue of Spaniards? Yet he looked nothing like those he had seen in Spain during his travels, whose people nearly worshiped the sun as they went about their daily lives, their skin tanned and warm in color.

_"Italia."_

_"Italia?" _He repeated, blue eyes wide with the spoken whisper. Horror and confusion flashed within those almost sapphire blue irises, the dangerous man with a knife to his throat answering just as softly.

_"Sí." _The stranger nodded, slipping that blade away in its hiding spot and taking a step back. It seemed they understood one another now.

This young man was a strange looking one. Blue hair and eyes, and a strange outfit. Where was he from? Why was he dressed the way he was and how did he come to be in Italy?

"Italy… Oh god, what did I do? How did I end up in Italy? I can't be in Italy! I'm suppose to be in New York! In Abstergo! Working! What the _hell?"_

The white clad man tapped his shoulder for attention, drawing him out of his panicked speech, speaking softly, quickly.

_"Ven conmigo, rápidamente. Es necesario un cambio de vestido …"_

The young man nodded, following the robe clad man about the plazas and markets of Italy until they reached a lovely Villa, somehow further than he thought away from the city. If this stranger were to kill him now, he could do it in cold blood with no warning what so ever.

_"Rápido, rápido." _ He hissed, the blue haired male following as fast as he could, the white robed man slipping into the Villa through a hidden passage, making the young stranger follow him.

They made it inside safely and into his room, the robed man lowering the white beaked hood and rooting through his drawers for something the other could wear. This boy needed to blend with the community and that horrendous outfit would get him no where.

_"Mettiti questi. ADESSO!" _He hissed in Italian, the blue haired man scrambling to get changed. He may not have understood what the other was saying but his actions and gestures were enough to make him strip from that horrid outfit and slip on the much softer stitched fabric of borrowed clothes.

He discarded his uniform, but slipped the pocket watch into a socket of some sort on those strange pants, patting it to make sure it would stay in place until he was ready to touch it.

_"Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez." _He introduced himself, name rolling from his tongue and making the other arch his brow. Such a strange name…

"_Ezio Auditore da Firenze." _

Grimmjow's eyes went wide in silent shock at that name. He had read that name in one of the files he had found in the manager's office while waiting to be interviewed, waiting to find out if he was hired or not. Ezio Auditore da Firenze, the Italian Assassin.

Everything came back to him in a rush. He had been waiting in the office for his interview to begin and was looking around on the desk, had found a rather curious file labeled as 'classified' and cracked it open to get a better look at it.

Ezio Auditore da Firenze: ancestor of Desmond Miles, this missing Subject Seventeen according to the papers he had read in the file.

Oh, fucking hell, what did he just touch back at Abstergo?

He stared at the pocket watch after pulling it free again, eyes wide with shock, confusion, and fear.

What was he going to do…?

* * *

**A/N:** Ah... Hard at work, aren't I? This had been plotting and building in my head, actually, after I started reading about the entire Assassin's games, Pieces of Eden, Abstergo, and thinking of Grimmjow in Italy. _As I do not personally know anyone versed in either Italian or Spanish, please let me know what I must change for it to be correct._

**ALSO IT IS SUPPOSE TO END THE WAY IT DID. Think of it as you will, yes?**

Yes, he is OOC. {One: Because he is not in the canon Bleach Universe. He is an average human working in NY, therefore making it an AU. Two: It is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE GRIMMJOW, unrelated to the canon one.}

Yes, Ezio is probably OOC as well, considering I am currently playing the first Assassin's Creed. And before anyone complains, I _do_ read a head for more information on a game series that I'm going to be playing.

**-SPOILERS AHEAD: STOP READING IF YOU HAVE NOT GOTTEN THIS FAR IN THE SERIES-**

Yes, Ezio is speaking Spanish. Why? Obviously to blend into another culture, such as a Spanish speaking one, one must learn the language. And an assassin, such as Ezio, would need to learn more than one language in order to speak to others. Take for example his apprentice, Shao Jun. She had to have been able to speak either English, Italian, or both and therefore able to speak to Ezio and his family during her stay.

**-SPOILERS END HERE: PLEASE CONTINUE AS NORMAL-**

There are my notes, please enjoy reading, guys!


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